


Lonely Little Life

by LittleDeathsOnMusicalBeds



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Break Up, Brendon Urie Depresion, Brendon Urie/ Pete Wentz, Brendon Urie/ Pete Wentz Break up, Chicago, Darkness, Depression, Hurt, Panic! at the Disco - Freeform, Pretty. Odd, Ryan Ross - Freeform, Ryan Ross Neighbor, fall out boy - Freeform, past Brete
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 17:04:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5098427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleDeathsOnMusicalBeds/pseuds/LittleDeathsOnMusicalBeds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon Urie needs to get his life together. But at the stage he's at - lying face down in a puddle of drool on his bed. It isn't looking hopeful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> My version of the storyline that me and my friend came up with for a little project. Check hers out at: 
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/4945960/chapters/11353267

Chapter 1: Pete, were you ever really there?

Beep beep

An alarm clock sounded, sharp tones nudging Brendon awake from his eternal slumber. Prying open his eyes.

It was time for Brendon Urie to get his life together.

But at the stage he was at - lying face down in a puddle of drool on his bed -it wasn't looking like it would happen any time soon.

Beep beep

"Okay, okay!" Brendon grunted -possibly the first proper words he'd uttered in days - slamming his hand down on the 'snooze' button and rolling over. Of course, he didn't plan to get himself out of bed.

It was the same routine every morning, he hadn't bothered to turn off his world alarm - which sounded at 7am every morning even though he hadn't attended work in some time, days? Weeks? Maybe even months. Brendon didn't keep track anymore. He figured he was fired - not that he ever picked up the phone. he didn't care about anything after HE left. His life had gone down the drain and he'd watched it happen. From his squeaky bed in his tiny apartment. He'd lost everything.

His job, his social life, his car, didn't matter to him anymore. What mattered was the immense sense of loss filling him up every day, The lack of will to get out of bed in the morning, and the massive hole growing in his chest. Filled only with grief, betrayal and loneliness.

Pete, were you ever really there?

About a half hour later Brendon's eyes flickered open once again, scanning the same cracked ceiling they did every morning.

He felt nothing.

He rolled over - squinting as he peeked through the gap in his bedroom curtains, casting a single beam of light in to his dingy room.

He heard the noises of busy Chicago coming to life as morning rush hour began. Car horns relentlessly peeping, voices incessantly chattering.

This was about the only contact Brendon had with the outside world, before rolling over and sleeping the next 4 hours away.

At 12pm Brendon awoke once again -at the sound of a local dog barking outside - he'd usually sleep through these things but something was bothering him this morning.

The vivid dreams had started around a month and a half ago.

Dreams of waking up in a black abyss. Alone with nothing but his thoughts.

He cried out for help, cried HIS name. But he was alone. His voice echoing through the empty blackness.

Before he heard a sound, something in the distance growing louder causing his ears to prick up. Was someone finally coming to rescue him? It was familiar, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it in his hazy state.

He braced himself. Before it grew loud enough and he recognized it as the neighbours bull terrier - out for it's morning walk- and yeah, here he was now.

Lying awake, still some-what consumed by the darkness, even in daylight, he could never quite let it go.

The darkness was what HE had left behind.

Brendon stared up at the picture on the desk, THE picture - the only one he had left of them together. Taken at their house warming party. When Pete moved in to Brendon's apartment, things seemed so simple, and look at them now. He was ninety nine percent sure Pete wouldn't have kept any pictures of them - why would he? - It was over. But even just thinking it sent sharp pangs of pain through Brendon's hollow chest.

He scrunched his eyes shut tightly as HIS words began echoing through his ears once again.

"No, no, not now." Cried Brendon, pulling his pillow over his ears.

"Not after I'd been doing so well..."

Doing well to forget, to push all thoughts of HIM to the back of his mind.

What he meant by 'doing well' was he'd shut himself away from the rest of the world. From all reminders of HIM.

He'd lay solidly in his bed for forty eight hours straight.

Brendon had his own way of coping with things - even if it meant ignoring two days worth of calls and half starving himself to death.

Maybe it was time to eat, and also he was pretty sure he shouldn't still be drinking the glass of stail orange juice that'd been sitting on the desk for around two weeks now.

But the thought of getting himself out of bed was daughnting enough, let alone having to face the rest of his flat - mainly his voice mail messages - He could almost hear his Mom lecturing him already.

Despite everything, he somehow managed to push it all to the back of his mind and sluggishly drag himself out of bed, still wrapped in his duvet, as he half crawled through to the kitchen rubbing his dry eyes.

His joints ached more then he'd thought they would "That's what you get for not moving for 48 hours!" He thought to himself.

He collapsed against the fridge after the mighty effort of reaching the kitchen. He had no idea how after sleeping for two days solid, how he could still be this worn out.

He pathetically reached his weak arms up to the handle and pulled the fridge open - wafting the pungent smell of rotten milk.... And eggs.... And that left over curry he'd eaten around 2 weeks ago. Basically everything in the fridge mixed in to one, super gross smell. Making Brendon gag quickly putting a hand over his nose.

"Man, did something die in here?" He whined aloud. Sheepishly peeking his head around the door.

The sight he was greeted with was almost worse than the smell.

Brendon slammed the door shut again in seconds. That was all he needed to see to know that there was nothing remotely edible in there.

He sunk to his knees, sighing at the thought of having to go to the store. Face the outside world again.

Although all he wanted to do right now was curl up on the floor and wallow away another 2 days in self pity. His stomach was telling him otherwise, he'd done a good job of ignoring it until now but the urge was finally to much to bare. A part of him wanted to just leave his body to rot away. But he knew he could no longer avoid feeding himself. It was time he went to the store.

"Just a couple of minutes." Brendon muttered, psyching himself up.

What had happened to him? He was seriously having to psych himself up to go to the store and buy some food.

"Brendon Urie, it's time to get your life together" he said aloud to himself, putting on a brave face and trying to get a grip while shakily getting to his feet - using the fridge door for support.

But in around 2.5 seconds. He found himself back in his bed - face down -wrapped in his duvet.

Maybe things weren't going to be as easy as he thought.

And as the darkness once again consumed him, the thoughts of HIM returned with it, flashbacks of HIS words once again began echoing through the vast emptiness.

"I'm done with you Brendon. I want you out of the house by Monday."

"But it's my appatrment?"

Brendon's eyes shot open as he sprang up.

"PETE NO-" But he cut himself off when he saw his surroundings and realized it was just another dream. It was too late to get Pete back. He was too late.

Feeling exacerbated his attention now turned to what had woken him - Not the neighbors dog returning from it's morning walk - But voices from the opposite side. The flat that'd been empty for the best part of a year for renovations. But now he cast his mind back he did remember seeing a "TO LET" sign pinned to the door last time he passed, some time ago.

"Some one must be moving in..." He thought to himself. Listening carefully to the muffled voices, but he couldn't make anything out . So instead he turned over and closed his eyes again, trying to block them out. Drifting once again, back in to the darkness.

But this time he saw something.

A silhouette of a man hunched over some one in the distance - though he was still a while away, there was no mistaking that the figure was HIM, Pete - it was about time he started using his name again - But the question was, who was the other figure? Lying on the ground at Pete's knees, he didn't look conscious. But as Brendon stepped closer he realized that he was most definitely not conscious, he was dead. Pete sat hunched over him holding something, something dripping in blood - ripped out of the other man's chest - and as Brendon stepped closer. He realized that the dismembered figure, was him.

He once again snapped awake, springing up - and this time completely out of bed - he sat catching his breath.

"Whoa, what a corny dream..." He thought, rubbing the sweat from his brow.

He sunk his head in to his hands trying to block out the thoughts of Pete.

Though they had never been quite so vivid, the dreams of his hollow chest were not unusual. He once woke up in the darkness covered in blood, looking down to find the same hole in his chest. It didn't hurt but he just felt, empty.

And even in waking hours, he could never quite shake that empty feeling. Empty like the look Pete gave him on that day, that faithful day, empty like the last words he'd said to Brendon, empty like the promise to stay with him forever.

"ARGHH, GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!" Brendon shouted, clutching at his hair.

He sighed and lowered his hands as he heard his stomach rumble and felt the hunger pains kicking in again now he was conscious. Sleeping so much made him forget them. But the darkness was now proving too much to bare.

"Ugh." He choked out a moan while swallowing his tears. Sometimes it was easy to just cry everything out. Sometimes he did. But now was not the time. Now was the time for him to get himself some food.

So once again, he climbed to his feet with the intention of finally leaving the house and going to the store, he hoped he could leave the darkness behind, which even when conscious, always seemed to hang over him like a rain cloud.

And this time, he really did make it out of the house.

He sighed as he stuffed his key in to the lock on his door. It kind of felt like he was locking all his problems away with it. Leaving them to float around in there without anyone to consume any more. But the one thing he couldn't escape, despite his hopes, was the darkness, he quickly found that he could not leave it behind with his other troubles. It lagged on over him, a constant reminder of his depression, a reminder of HIM.

Another thing that he couldn't shake were his hunger pains, which were growing more intense by the minute -Urging him to reach the store.

But just as he was about to turn around and head down the corridor he heard a noise behind him. The next door along opening, not the dog woman's but the one on the other side - that was previously empty. And he looked up to find a tall brown haired man staring back at him as he exited his flat. Brendon looked straight at him - taking in his features - absent mindedly studying him while his mind was elsewhere, forgetting that it was rude to stare. He wasn't even really staring at him, he was just - staring. Getting his thoughts together. But he quickly snapped out of it when he zoned back in to reality and saw the puzzled look on the man's face.

Before he could say anything. Brendon over-exaggeratedly swung his head round in the other direction and zig-zagged down the corridor. Stumbling toward the door.

Exiting the building for the first time in weeks felt weird. Feeling fresh air fill his lungs after what seemed like forever. It was weird enough being out of his flat, but now being out in the open, made him feel so exposed. The odd looks he was getting from passers by weren't exactly helping. He pulled his coat tighter around himself for support and started down the road to the corner store with his head down.

Upon reaching the store, the doors slid open automatically for him. That was new. He was pretty sure he remembered heaving open a heavy wooden door last time he came in here. But then again, That may have been the corner store down the road from his Mom's old house in San Francisco. Brendon didn't have a great memory.

He walked in feeling around in his pockets for loose change since he'd forgotten his wallet. "Great job Brendon!" He thought to himself. At least he'd gotten himself out of the house.

He walked toward the frozen foods aisle to look for some cheap ready meals, but his eyes soon fell upon a familiar figure, standing staring in to a near by freezer. It was the guy he saw in the hallway - his new neighbour. Brendon jumped back in astonishment "How did he get here so fast?!?" He thought. He was just locking up as Brendon left and he was almost 100% sure he hadn't been walking alongside him. But he tore his eyes away when the guy looked over at him with another puzzled expression and they momentarily locked eyes. Brendon hated it when that happened.

Pushed his new neighbour's teleporting abilities to the back of his mind and started browsing through different freezers.

He soon found one containing ready meals and picked up a few. All that he could afford with the small amount of money he'd scraped together from his pockets.

His original plan was to stalk up with enough food to feed him through the apocalypse so he'd never need to leave the flat again. But that plan was soon hijacked by his lack of wallet. So for now he'd just have to do with a couple of days worth.

What was really bothering was that he was still getting weird looks from passers by. Did he really look that rough?! I mean it'd been a while since he'd shaved or had a haircut but surely it wasn't that ba- his thoughts were soon cut off when he looked down to find he was still wearing his pyjama bottoms.

Oh god why?

He'd not thought about it while he pulled his coat on to leave earlier because he'd been so determined to get himself out, and now he was stuck in the middle of a store wearing batman pyjamas. Great.

He shamefully shuffled toward the counter, clutching his three days worth of pasta bake and fish fingers. That must've been why the neighbour had given him that funny look - that, and probably because he'd been staring at him. "What a great first impression." He thought to himself. Feeling the dark cloud above him grow. It tended to do that when he was hitting rock bottom as if it fed on his pain. At least he was the only one that could see that.

The guy behind the register hurriedly rung up his food, as if he was picking up on Brendon's mood and trying to help him get out of there as quickly as possible. Or maybe he just wanted the freak out of his store as soon as possible. Either way Brendon handed him the money and quickly headed for the door. Now wishing he had his neighbour's teleporting abilities so he wouldn't have to face the street again.

Now that he was aware of his current state, he was ten times more aware of people staring at him. It felt like they were staring through him. Tearing his sorry body to shreds.

As he walked the ten minutes back to his flat. He wanted nothing more than the earth to open up and swallow him whole. Consuming him and ridding the world of Brendon Urie. Perhaps it would be better for everyone.

\----------------------------------------------


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brendon Urie needs to get his life together. But at the stage he's at - lying face down on his bed in a puddle of drool. It isn't looking hopeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My version of the storyline that me and my friend came up with for a little project. Check hers out at:
> 
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/4945960/chapters/11353267

Chapter 2 - Memories

 

Yet another day had passed, another cloudy day, just the same old thing. 

 

After the pyjama inncodent Brendon had fallen back into his old routine - sleeping and, well sleeping. 

 

Some life he had! 

 

And of course, he was still yet to shake the darkness, he felt kind of weird that he'd given it a name but that WAS what it was, right?

 

Just, darkness.

 

Pretty much everything was as it had been for the past month and a half. 

 

But something felt different. Probably the lack of hunger pains, that had been the only change. For once Brendon was feeding himself. Which made him feel 1% better. 

 

He sighed, picking at his plate of cold chips - they hadn't defrosted properly in the microwave and were some-what unappatising. He pushed the plate up on the desk and lay back - sighing again. Staring up at the ceiling. 

 

He stared untill his eyes blurred the cracks away, nothing in particular on his mind just, staring. 

 

But he noticed something. Something unfamilliar on the ceiling coming into focus - A black spot that he'd never seen before, he squinted, studying it carefully. But as it rappidly grew in to a familliar emptiness that swallowed him up within seconds. He realised something.

 

"I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

 

He slowly opened his eyes - quickly scanning the desk for the plate of chips he'd left there. But to his relief they were nowhere to be seen "It was just a dream." He thought, breathing a sigh of relief. 

 

Recently he'd developed a fear of the darkness consuming him in waking hours. Just like his dreams but, real. 

 

Sometimes he mistook his dreams for reality - Like just now. Maybe if it really did happen he'd mistake it for a dream? 

 

They were getting more and more vivid by the day. And he couldn't help but notice that the dark cloud above him was growing with the intensity of his dreams. 

 

"I need to clear my head." He thought, rubbing his eyes. "Maybe some fresh air will help." 

 

He set off down stairs (quadrouple checking he wasn't still in his pyjamas) and went out into the street. 

 

The fresh air did feel good - not that the air in the Chicago city centre was very fresh. At least it was better than being cooped up in his stuffy flat. 

 

But his peace was soon disturbed as a cloud of cigarette smoke wafted down the street in his direction. 

 

He silently cursed under his breath and looked up to see who the culprit was. To his surprise, he found it was his new neighbour. 

 

He didn't know why this surprised him. He seemed to always see him around. It was like whenever he left the flat he was just - there. 

 

And now he was 'just there' spoiling the fresh air so Brendon headed back in. He'd had enough of the outdoors anyway. Brendon tired quickly of things. He'd always had a short attention span.

 

He slowly sulked down the hall untill he reached his door and looked up to find, HE was standing in the hallway. Not 'HE' as in Pete. But the guy who lived next door - once again sporting his teleporting abbilities much to Brendon's astonishment, and giving him yet another strange look. 

 

What was with that guy? Brendon thought to himself as he unlocked his door. He snorted and muttered something under his breath before walking in and kickig off his shoes. 

 

He flopped diaginally on to his bed and lay there untill his eyes slowly flickered shut. 

 

Drifting in to sleep he hoped the darkness wouldn't be too cruel to him this time.

 

But before it even had the time to set in he was jolted awake by the phone ringing. 

 

He thought about just closing his eyes and ignoring it. But it was really about time he started taking his calls.

 

He reached over and picked it up from his bedside desk.

 

"Hello?"

 

"Oh my god Brendon, I've been worried sick. Are you ok? Why haven't you been picking up the phone?! I almost got in to the car and drove all the way to Chicago. You can't do that to me. I can't believe you didn't-" 

 

It went on like this. Brendon had zoned out after all of 5 seconds anyway. 

 

This was of course the dreaded phone call from his Mom. 

 

"Why did I have to leave it so long before returning her calls?" He thought, putting his head in his hands, unnable to concentrate on her talking in circles. 

 

"Ok Mom." He finally cut in. "I'm fine. I've been..... Fine." 

 

"Oh good. I'm so glad I caught you son. I've so worried." 

 

"Yeah, sorry about not returning your calls I've just been.... Busy. Things've been kinda weird recently."

 

"Are you still messed up about Peter? I mean honestly Brendon, he was no good for you. Try not to date the rockstar next time it was never going to wo-" 

 

"Mom, no, I'm totally over it." He lied "And he wasn't a rockstar when I started dating him anyway. Do you seriousley not remember?" He said, staring up at the picture on the desk. 

 

"Anyway It's not like I even think about him anymore. I've just been... Busy." 

 

"Well ok then." She said in a patranising tone, as if she knew he was lying. "How's work been? You didn't lose your job too did you?"

 

"Lose my job as well as what?" He said "And, uh, no, I didn't lose my job. Works been fine... I mean boring. Work's been boring." He lied, again. 

 

"Well ok, just let us know when you get a new job. Remember, you can always move back home and help your Dad at the garage."

 

"Wait, I thought I said I didn't lose my job?!" He hated how his Mom could read him like a book.

 

"So how's the weather been in Chicago?" She said, quickly changing the subject. 

 

"It's been, grey and rainy, like it always is. I thought Chicago was meant to be nice at this time of year?!" 

 

"You've lived there for three years Brendon. You should really know by now."

 

"Two and a half." Brendon corrected. He'd moved to Chicago with so many hopes and dreams. It seemed so nice when he'd first arrived. So, refreshing.

 

But now it just seemed dull and grey. Like everything.

 

"Brendon?" She said, cutting short his train of thought.

 

"Yeah, sorry Mom. How have things been in Calefornia?" 

 

"Oh, just the usual. I'm out sunbaithing in the study right now." She said, unable to hide her smug tone. 

 

Brendon snorted.

 

"Anyway, I need to go run some errands. I'll speak to you soon Son. Don't have me worried like that again." She said firmly.

 

"I wont." Brendon said, feeling like a child getting scaulded. "Bye Mom, speak soon."

 

"Goodbye Brendon, and don't let Pete get you down. You'll find someone else." She said before hanging up.

 

She must've read that he was definiyely not over Pete from his tone of voice too. 

 

Brendon wasn't a good liar - He never had been, and he could never get anything past his Mom.

 

He put the phone back on the desk and flopped down again.

 

Maybe moving back home wouldn't be so bad. Just for a year or so, to clear his head. Leave his problems behind for a while. Untill he found somewhere else to go. 

 

He'd be guarenteed work with his Dad who wouldn't let him slack off, the weather was nice almost 100% of the time, maybe his Mom and Dad would even buy him a car and that would give him some freedom.

 

There wasn't really anything left for him in Chicago. He'd lost his job, he'd lost Pete, and all his friends with him, really they were Pete's friends who'd only hung out with him because they were together.

 

But there was something about Chicago that was just, right. Even though he didn't like the weather, and how he lived in one of the busiest parts of town and was woken constantly by passing drunks and speeding cars. 

 

Something told him to stay in Chicago. It was where he belonged. For now anyway.

 

He studied his room from his position on the bed. There were plates from previous meals stacked on the desk, clothes covering the floor and genral mess cluttering the entire room.

 

How did a guy who barely moved from his bed manage to make so much mess?

 

He sighed at the thought of cleaning everything up. He really ought to start soon.

 

After months of everything piling up he didn't even know where to begin.

 

Pete had always hated his messy habbits. Now he wondered whether things would've been better if he'd just taken the time to clean up more often.Or wash his clothes. He remembered Pete specifically complaining about his lack of hygene. 

 

It caused many arguments. Stupid little arguments which Brendon now wishes he'd just let go. 

 

It brings back memories of the laundrette incodent. 

 

When Brendon had finally decided to go to the laundrette and accidentally took Pete's favourite jacket that was hand wash only. 

 

That wasn't a great evening. 

 

After that, his memories were cloudy. It all seemed like a blur.

 

Pete seemed more and more distant. Spending most of his nights out with his friends leaving Brendon in the appartment. Most of the little time he spent there they fought over stupid little things.

 

He remembered he was particularlly fond of a guy named Patrick. They went out a lot. 

 

Then one day he came home announcing that his band had just been signed to a record label and they were going on their first tour.

 

"What band?"

 

It all went downhill from there.

 

He wondered if Pete was really there in those last few months. More than just briefly in physical form. Maybe it had been over for longer than Brendon had ever known.

 

Maybe it had never really happened.

 

It was all just a sick dream and one day he'd wake up and see sense.

 

Maybe Brendon was dead. And this was all that was left. His appartment, and nothing else. Just him, alone. Imprisoned in his tomb of darkness.

 

Peering through the blinds half sure he would find empty streets. Or maybe even nothing at all. Brendon quickly realised he was over thinking things - again. Snapping back in to reality. He stared out at the busy streets.

 

Everyone seemed to have so much purpose. They knew exactly where they were going and what they were doing. Was he the only one out there that didn't have it all worked out? Would he ever find purpose?

 

So many questions.

 

Questions to distract him from the problem at hand - laundry.

 

Brendon was good at thinking himself in to a void. Thinking so hard he forgot about his true problems. 

 

But not this time. 

 

He sprang up and grabbed all his dirty clothes off the floor quickly shoving them in to a plastic bag and heading for the door.

 

He was outside and at the door of the laundrette within minutes. He took a deep breath.

 

It hadnt changed at all since he'd last been there - With Petes jacket. It was as if it was stuck in the past. Like him. 

 

Before long he was stuffing his laundry into the nearest machine, pushing all thoughts of Pete to the back of his mind. 

 

It took a lot of persuasion but it eventually all fit in and he started the cycle. He really needed to stop putting things off for so long.

 

He sighed sinking to the ground with his back against the machine. He looked down at his feet and noticed he'd been in such a rush he'd forgotten shoes and was sitting there in his socks. At least he'd remembered proper clothes this time.

 

He scanned the room from his still position, everyone bustling about trying to get everything washed and be back in time for the next thing on their busy scheduels. Everyone was always in a hurry. He felt like the only one.

 

Motionless in a sea of constant movement. 

 

He couldn't help but stop when his eyes fell upon a familliar figure.

 

It was his new neighbour - again. 

 

"What the fuck?" He breathed.

 

He seriousley must be stalking him. 

 

He walked over and picked the washing machine right next to Brendon. Giving him a few side-ways glances before stuffing in his expensive looking clothes and pushing a few buttons. 

 

He sat down on the bench opposite, and watched, transfixed as his clothes spun round for a minute before he noticed Brendon staring and flashed him a quick smile before giving him a familiar puzzled look. 

 

Brendon's eyes darted awkwardly around the room. Ok this is too weird.

 

"Dude, are you staring at me because I'm in socks? I know it must look weird but, I was just in a hurry to get out and-"

 

"Uh, n-no." he said, cutting Brendon off. 

 

" I'm staring at you because you have a big black cloud above your head."

 

Brendon froze.

 

\----------------------------------------------


End file.
